


the &^%damned arms race (or negotiations or how patrick got out of doing the spoken part at the AMA's)

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-27
Updated: 2006-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	the &^%damned arms race (or negotiations or how patrick got out of doing the spoken part at the AMA's)

Patrick was discovering how easy it was to be bored and nervous at the same time.

In other words.

Bored: Seeing all these lovely stars light up the room, etcetera, et al. Patrick was _not_ a star. He didn't wash his hair this morning.

Nervous: They were going to perform Arms Race. It would go down, not so well. There was a speaking part. He would be _saying_ stuff, urging all the boyz and girlz. Woe. Destruction. Fire. Gnashing of teeth.

"Pete." He whispered. "Pete?"

"Hum?"

"Are you listening? Here's the deal. _You_ say the spoken part in the song-"

Pete snapped around to him, snake-fast.

"Ok, _no_. God, no. That's _your_ part, you do it good, there's nothing you can do to make me-"

"-and I'll give you a hand job now...and. Ok, and a blowjob later."

"Sex later," Pete immediately parlayed, and Patrick rolled his eyes. "Two rounds."

" _Fuck_." Patrick considered. "One round and a blowjob. That's my last offer."

"Deal," Pete said, and wriggled around to curl towards Patrick. Andy looked across at them curiously but Patrick opened his eyes wide at him. _Mind your own business_ , and true to form, Andy peered even more, brushing his hair behind his ears.

"What are you two _doing_?" he hissed and Joe looked too.

"Could you not look?" Patrick spat. "I'm negotiating here."

*

When the time called for it, Pete was excellent at keeping his big mouth shut. A time to moan quietly and all. Patrick's hand was bent around awkwardly, fingers softly clenching Pete's cock, and Patrick was smirking at how easily he got Pete hard.

"Less smiling," Pete advised in a low, breathless voice. "More getting me off."

"Shut up," Patrick said amiably, stroking up and rubbing his thumb around the head, smearing pre-come all around it. Pete trembled underneath his questioning fingers and shuddered, even. Patrick stopped moving his hand and Pete made a small strangled sound.

"Hurry. Hurryhurryhurry," Pete chanted low, and damn it if Patrick wasn't getting hard as well. Oh, shit. He leaned his head away from Pete's face, too close in this dark murmuring crowd, he could feel his hot breath across his own mouth, toothpaste-and-juice tinged, and Patrick glanced around quickly to see if any cameras were trained on them, because he personally knew of six people who would pay good money to see this happen; he stroked up, down, faster, luckily using his strumming hand because of the rhythmic control, squeezing slightly, and watched in fervent interest as Pete closed his eyes and bit his lip, head lolling against the back of the plush red seat.

"You look so hot this way," he observed and Pete grinned as he came silently.

" _Shit,_ " Andy hissed, throwing them a paper towel he had somewhere on his person, maybe in his backpocket as usual. " _God_. You two need help."

*

"That went okay," Pete purred against that sensitive part of Patrick's neck, right before it became smooth pale shoulder, and Patrick arched up underneath him, because, oh yeah, he was made for making deals and Pete _did_ do a good job on the speaking part, and Patrick went all censor-y on himself, because _goddamned_ would ruin nations. "My voice is nowhere as sexy as yours, but it went good. Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, could you put your hand a little further down my jeans?" Patrick panted. "Please?"

Pete snickered and complied, and Patrick wondered vaguely if they had locked the intervening door between this hotel room and the one Andy and Joe were in. For Andy's sake, he hoped they did, because Pete was yanking at his pants and boxers and there it all went, and Pete was taking him into that hot mouth, wicked tongue pressing sharp against the slit of his cock and Patrick was maybe thinking too much because he choked out, "Wait, I thought I was supposed to do that," and Pete managed to make an exasperated expression around a mouthful of Patrick, going down as far as he could before coming up back slowly with _muchisimo_ suction, almost like he was turning Patrick inside out, and then released him.

"Look, do you want to argue now?" Pete said, voice already slightly raspy. He was resting his palms flat on Patrick's hipbones, massaging the crease of Patrick's thighs with slow maddening circular movements of his thumbs. "Because I really want to do this."

"Yeah, no, I really wasn't complaining," Patrick rushed to assure. Pete smiled slowly, and then bent his head again, breathing softly against soft sensitive skin and Patrick moaned. He bucked up and called out Pete's name as Pete pursed his lips all around Patrick and was that Andy beating down the door? Because that was so rude.

"Don't we have some afterparty?" Andy yelled, and Patrick yelled back something about _renegotiations_ , to which Pete snorted and nearly choked on Patrick and nearly _died_ , and Patrick laughed and then there had to be even more discussions before they left, **re:sex** and Patrick had to make some promises involving a black garter and some mesh pantyhose, but that was pretty much okay by him.


End file.
